


Of Fountains and Flowers

by hajiiwa



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Medieval, Character Death, Fluff and Angst, Greek Mythology - Freeform, Hopeful Ending, Jealousy, Kings & Queens, M/M, Magic-Users, Non-Explicit Sex, Slight Age Difference, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2018-03-05
Packaged: 2018-09-28 12:53:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 16,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10101611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hajiiwa/pseuds/hajiiwa
Summary: “Iwaizumi, right?” the guard inquired, tilting her head. “I’m terribly sorry to hear what happened to your family.”“It’s okay,” he answered, adjusting the strap before slinging his satchel over one shoulder. “I survived.”Her smile grew. “I have a feeling you’ll get along well with Lord Oikawa,” she said, starting towards the main building and motioning for him to follow. “Everyone does.”





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Frenchibi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frenchibi/gifts).



> for French: happy birthday!! I remember you reading what I had of this at the time and I was _so_ hyped, we both were, so I thought 'what better to do than to _finally_ pick up one of my old projects?!?!'  
>  I hope you like this. it has been KILLING me not to talk to you about my ideas.
> 
> to everyone else: this is, as you will see, based off of the story of Hyacinthus, a lover of Apollo. if you know the story at all, you know why 'major character death' is listed as a warning. enjoy!

Iwaizumi watched carefully as the unfamiliar landscape passed him by. His hands wrung the strap of the worn leather satchel sitting in his lap, holding all of his current possessions, the only reminder of what he’d lost.

The carriage jerked-- Iwaizumi grimaced and snapped his gaze upwards. Looming on the hill, far above them, was Seijoh kingdom. A little ways down the road was a large, ornate gate, guarded by two figures in silver and blue armor. The carriage slowed and Iwaizumi tilted his head, attempting to listen in on what the men were discussing.

“And you are?”

“Transporting the boy from the country. His home burned down in a fire.”

“Iwaizumi…?”

“Hajime.”

“Yes, you may proceed.”

Reigns snapped and suddenly they were moving again, past the great gates, into a wholly new place. Iwaizumi’s heart was frantic in his chest.

The road up to the castle was direct and extremely busy, at least compared to the paths Iwaizumi had grown accustomed to. He met the eyes of a very young girl lugging a large basket of firewood on her back; then an elderly man straining to reach fruit on the upper branches of a tree Iwaizumi didn’t recognize; then a boy about his age with sandy hair and curious green eyes. He could feel his cheeks burn as he looked away, suspecting that every passer-by knew that he was foreign.

They were stopped once more, at the somewhat smaller gate up to the castle. Iwaizumi peered up at it, in awe of the sweeping wreaths and marvelous archways. In little time, they were up the hill and Iwaizumi was being ushered off.

He nodded somewhat nervously to his chauffeur, then glanced at the knight by his side. She looked to be made of stern stuff but smiled softly when she sensed his apprehensions.

“Iwaizumi, right?” she inquired, tilting her head. “I’m terribly sorry to hear what happened to your family.”

“It’s okay,” he answered, adjusting the strap before slinging his satchel over one shoulder. “I survived.”

Her smile grew. “I have a feeling you’ll get along well with Lord Oikawa,” she said, starting towards the main building and motioning for him to follow. “Everyone does.”

Ah, yes-- Iwaizumi had heard much about Lord Oikawa. He was a fair, kind ruler, but harsh to his enemies. He was incredibly young to have such an influence-- twenty-something, he figured-- but his leadership qualities and steady ethics made him desirable for many a friend and foe. Iwaizumi assumed he was terribly handsome.

He was curious to see for himself.

Iwaizumi followed her up the flights of stairs leading to the double-doored entrance, and although confident in his abilities, he had to push to keep up with her. She paused briefly to let him catch his breath as they reached the top, but before Iwaizumi was fully ready she was pushing open the door and heading inside.

Immediately, he was greeted with a buzz of conversation. A few people spared him glances as they passed but most were soaked in their conversations, hands either waving about enigmatically or clasped behind backs as signs of respect. 

It definitely wasn’t difficult to spot the king. Iwaizumi’s eyes picked him out almost of their own will, finding the tall, slim figure dressed in elegant robes standing towards the center of the room. His back was turned, but he could see the crown nestled in his wavy locks of brown hair. 

When conversation lulled, the guard sank down to one knee. “My Lord, I have the boy you requested.”

Annoyance twinged in Iwaizumi’s stomach at her use of ‘boy’, but any ill will faded as the king turned and met his eyes. He was strikingly handsome, as Iwaizumi had expected, but his eyes were large and soft, not held down by the circles of exhaustion clinging to them. His skin was fair but his hands were calloused, Iwaizumi could see, when he extended one and helped the guard to her feet. 

“Thank you,” he said gently, no doubt seeing the pleased flush on her cheeks as she nodded and turned. Suddenly intimidated Iwaizumi sank to a knee himself, but the king merely laughed-- such an easy, warm sound-- and held out his hand again.

“There’s no need for that,” he reassured, and Iwaizumi felt his pulse jump when he slid a hand into the king’s. Rising slowly, Iwaizumi sought out king Oikawa’s eyes and was not left disappointed.

“I trust that your trip here was safe and comfortable?” the brunet asked in a light tone, squeezing Iwaizumi’s hand before releasing it.

“It was, Milord,” Iwaizumi said hastily, but again, the king merely laughed it off.

“Please, no such formalities,” he chided, nodding to the man at his right before turning all attention back to Iwaizumi. “Respect, yes, but don’t make me sound older than I am. You’re fine to just call me Oikawa.”

Iwaizumi was thoroughly confused but bowed his head nonetheless, his eyebrows drawn together, tight. Oikawa reached out, one of his long, slender hands sliding along his jawline and cupping his cheek.

“You’re so young,” he murmured, his searching gaze flitting over Iwaizumi’s face. “So young to be…”

“My Lord,” a voice interrupted, and Iwaizumi found himself both grateful and disappointed when Oikawa’s warm hand left his face.

“Yes?”

At this point, Iwaizumi tuned out of the conversation. Instead, he tried to ignore the prickle on the back of his neck, the tingling of his cheek were Oikawa had touched him, and the erratic trip of his heartbeat.

“Iwa-chan, are you listening to me?”

Iwaizumi jumped a little and glanced over at Oikawa, who was watching him with an amused expression. Thrown off by the unexpected nickname, Iwaizumi was quickly fumbling over his words. “I-I, ah…”

“Don’t worry, I know you’re probably stressed and tired,” the king stated, his eyes amused. “Come on, I can show you to your quarters and ask you a few questions.”

“Don’t let him intimidate you,” a rough baritone voice snickered, and Iwaizumi was shocked to see a dark-haired man taller than both he and Oikawa blinking lazily down at them.

“Mattsun, I would never,” Oikawa said curtly, winking at Iwaizumi and turning. “Follow me, Iwa-chan.”

Iwaizumi gripped his satchel firmly and followed, having to significantly lengthen his stride to keep up with Oikawa. The king’s thick cloak billowed out behind him as he walked, but Iwaizumi could hear his casual, piercing whistle over the indistinct rumble of chatter.

He was led down a short hallway, up a long flight of stairs, and was soon being guided into a room that seemed to be rather close to the royal quarters. As he passed, Oikawa put a gentle hand on the small of his back to urge him along and closed to door behind them.

“So,” Oikawa prompted, smiling brilliantly down at Iwaizumi, “I can assume you’re wondering why you’re getting such special treatment. I mean, not every new recruit gets a personal greeting from a king as great as I.”

If it had been anyone else, Iwaizumi would have laughed. Instead, he opted to bite his tongue, offering the king a small smile himself. “I was wondering that, among other things,” he said, finding himself unable to hold Oikawa’s gaze for long and breaking it.

The older man hummed and took a step forward, placing both hands on Iwaizumi’s shoulders and lifting up the strap of his bag. “Your father,” he began, removing and setting aside the satchel, “was my best soldier.”

Iwaizumi tensed, and not just because of his proximity to the king. Oikawa straightened and smiled down at him, his nimble fingers straightening the askew line of his collar. “And your mother was a close friend of my sister when they were littler. After your father died-- you were very small, I don’t expect you to remember-- your mother took responsibility and moved the whole family of  _ two  _ out into the middle of nowhere. You should have grown up here, but alas! I know your mother taught you the skills you’ll need to know.”

“I…” Iwaizumi blinked quickly. “Did my father work directly with you?”

Oikawa’s eyes gleamed. “How clever of you,” he rewarded, and Iwaizumi’s cheeks flushed darkly. “Yes, your father was my right-hand man-- well, as much as a man could be, accompanying a toddler. He worked with  _ my  _ father for many years, and when he began to age but could still handle more than your average soldier, he was assigned to me. He protected me, nurtured me until I was eight. That was when he was killed.”

“Mother never told me that,” Iwaizumi muttered, trying and failing not to sound bitter. “She said that he died in an accident.”

Oikawa pursed his lips. “Technically, he did.”

“A  _ mundane  _ accident,” Iwaizumi said, perhaps a little too harshly, for Oikawa’s eyebrows arched in surprise. He bit his lip and looked away, taking a tentative step backward.

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa said bluntly. “He died protecting me.”

Iwaizumi, finding nothing to say to that, merely wrung his hands and nodded.

Sighing, Oikawa brushed past him and sat cross-legged on the bed, an action that was neither kingly nor completely appropriate. “Sit,” he ordered, pointing to the half of the bed before him. Perplexed by the young lord’s behavior, Iwaizumi carefully tucked his legs underneath him as he sat.

“Don’t distrust me,” Oikawa said after a moment. “I know that you’ve been through a lot, but I have more to share.” He hesitated, then reached over and took one of Iwaizumi’s hands. “Can you trust me?"

His stare was unwavering-- so was Iwaizumi’s. “I can try,” he said finally, and Oikawa smiled warmly.

“Your mother advised that you only join the king’s program after you turn eighteen,” Oikawa started again, “but due to the nature of your situation, I requested that you be brought over here at once. Tell me, Iwa-chan, when is your birthday?”

“The tenth of June,” Iwaizumi answered, and Oikawa brightened.

“Ah! Same season as mine, then. How lovely.” He shook his head slightly. “Anyways, your mother knew that before too long you would be pining to get out of the house, but she wanted to wait until you were… legal.”

Something flickered over Oikawa’s features, but it was too quick for Iwaizumi to catch. “Ah-- yes, I knew that,” he said. Oikawa hummed.

“So what would you like to know, then, Iwa-chan?” The king propped his chin up on his palm and smiled slowly. “Anything at all.”

Iwaizumi thought for only a moment, then blurted-- “how old are you?”

Oikawa blinked quickly, looking slightly confused, but gave Iwaizumi a near-smirk and sat back. “I turn twenty-six this July,” he said. ‘ _ Eight years, _ ’ Iwaizumi thought. “Anything else?”

“Will I be forced to marry?”

“No.” Oikawa frowned. “Has marriage been pushed upon you already, Iwa-chan?”

“No, not really,” Iwaizumi admitted, “I’m just curious.”

Oikawa gave him another lazy smile. “No,” he repeated, “but surely someone like you will have no trouble finding a spouse if that’s what you desire.”

‘ _ Desire _ ’ caused Iwaizumi’s heart to begin pounding again. He nodded and sent Oikawa a couple more easy questions, then summoned the courage to ask one last one that he knew would shock the king yet again.

“Will I be able to stay at your side?” he asked, but he was the surprised one when Oikawa lifted their still-conjoined hands and kissed his tanned knuckles. 

“How you choose to be at my side is up to you,” he answered smoothly, his long lashes fluttering against his cheeks as he briefly closed his eyes.

Oikawa released his hand and rose, towering over the younger male at his full height. “Make yourself at home,” he said warmly, then made for the door. “Someone will be in to check on you tomorrow.”

Iwaizumi watched him until the door shut, then fell forwards and buried his burning face into a pillow.

***

Iwaizumi didn’t get to speak to the king for three days after that. He was seen in passing, both during his tour of the grounds and the basics of the combat training he would begin after his birthday, but they didn’t share a single word until Iwaizumi bumped into him on his trek up to the library.

“Ah, Iwa-chan! How wonderful, I’ve caught you.” A hand slid onto his shoulder and pressed slightly, causing Iwaizumi to halt in his tracks and almost drop his books in surprise. Oikawa rounded to his front and smiled down at him, his pearly white teeth peeking out from between his lips. “Listen, I’ve been meaning to tell you something. We’re having visitors from a neighboring kingdom-- Nekoma-- over in a few days, and I want to give you the rundown.”

Oikawa took a deep breath. “Their king is… interesting. What do you know of the Tetsurou bloodline?”

Iwaizumi furrowed his brow. “I know that they’re old and powerful,” he said, “but not much else.”

“Kuroo Tetsurou is their current king.” Oikawa pursed his lips. “He and I have a bit of a history-- some good, some bad-- but I’d take everything he says with a grain of salt. He’s a powerful ally, but an even more powerful foe, so don’t get on his bad side. He’s younger than me, but not by much.”

Oikawa met his eyes. “He’s a charmer and a flirt,” he said, and Iwaizumi swallowed.

“I’m sure some people would say that about you,” he tried. Oikawa’s lips curled upwards into a sly smile.

“You’ve more personality than I’d originally thought,” Oikawa murmured, his eyelids falling halfway, “I like that.”

A shudder ran down Iwaizumi’s spine, but the king was continuing down the stairs before hardly any time passed. Oikawa did glance back, though, his eyes giving Iwaizumi a quick once-over before he was out of sight.

Iwaizumi squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lower lip, excitement churning his insides. The slight conflict of interest was nagging at his mind-- this is the  _ king _ \-- but he pushed away the thoughts in favor of a small grin and a renewed energy in his step.

***

“Wow, you’ve got it pretty bad.”

Oikawa frowned at the source of the voice-- his old friend and advisor, Hanamaki-- who clearly couldn’t hold his tongue. “What makes you say that?”

“The new kid.” Hanamaki leaned against the wall and tapped a finger against Oikawa’s desk. “Iwaizumi.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Oikawa snorted, flicking Hanamaki’s hand and scowling up at him. 

“No, it isn’t,” Hanamaki said lazily, rolling his eyes, “he’s the son of the man who saved you and your sister’s life, he’s obviously got your attention-- and, well. He looks like  _ that. _ ”

“He’s seventeen, Makki,” the king reminded in a petulant voice, folding his arms tightly. “He’s a  _ kid. _ ”

“Not for much longer,” Hanamaki said firmly, his knowing eyes boring into Oikawa. “From how you’ve been acting, I know that you know it, too. I saw you with him earlier, when he was headed to the library; you just about gave the poor kid a heart attack, Oikawa! The more you tease him, the more he’s going to think that you actually want something from him.”

Oikawa’s lips curled into a smirk. “So what, if I want something from him?” he murmured softly, hands stilling on the tabletop. “Soon he’ll be eligible for marriage and consent, so if I don’t snatch him up, someone else will.”

“Someone like Kuroo,” Hanamaki said without missing a beat, and Oikawa felt his expression go sour. 

“I never said that, Makki.”

“You implied it, Oikawa.”

The brown-haired man scoffed in exasperation. “What do you want from me?” he asked indignantly. “What are you trying to say?”

“Don’t hurt him,” Hanamaki said curtly. “Don’t take just for your own benefit. He’s still young, and probably pretty naive when it comes to people like you, so just be careful.”

Oikawa recoiled slightly-- he could admit, the words stung a little. “I don’t plan on hurting him,” he said, his tone honest. He looked down, his mind reeling, his lips drawn into a fine line. “The choice is his to make.”

Hanamaki sighed a little and turned towards the door. “Kuroo will be here soon,” he muttered over his shoulder. “Don’t smother him.”

After he’d left Oikawa groaned and dropped his forehead onto the desk, his thoughts alive with the stupidly handsome boy and his heart-stopping smile.

***

Sure enough, it was only a few days later that Iwaizumi caught wind of Nekoma’s imminent arrival. He was in the armory at the time, his hands memorizing the slats and grooves of the military-issued shields when an older student alerted their mentor that their guests were due to arrive. As instructed by the king Iwaizumi hastened to follow his trainer, hands anxiously tucked into the pockets of his tunic as they made their way to the castle gates.

A small crowd was gathered down the hill, and it was easy to see why. A steady line of carriages was approaching them, the red and black hues contrasting with Seijoh’s brighter theme. Iwaizumi glanced over at the king, who stood a few paces away, his eyes trained on the first carriage in line. Iwaizumi followed his line of sight until the gates were swung open and a tall figure stepped into plain sight.

At once, Iwaizumi knew that man to be Kuroo Tetsurou. His regal attire was obvious enough, but his expression and posture also made it clear. Nestled in his impossibly messy locks was a small golden crown, bejeweled with sparkling red stones. 

“Tooru,” the foreign king greeted warmly, the unfamiliar lilt of his accent piquing Iwaizumi’s interest. The ravenette breezed past him in favor of Oikawa, the two sharing a meaningful look before clasping hands.

“I hope your trip over was safe, Tetsu-chan?” Oikawa asked. Iwaizumi could hear the honey dripping from his words. 

“It was everything I expected,” Kuroo answered with a shrug, his amber eyes flickering over to Iwaizumi. The younger male stiffened and swallowed quickly, the weight of Kuroo’s stare causing goosebumps to prick the back of his neck. It wasn’t unpleasant-- Iwaizumi didn’t think that in the slightest-- but unlike Oikawa’s gaze his was calculating, somewhat more intimidating. 

“I trust we have enough space to accommodate you and your party,” Oikawa said sharply, drawing Kuroo’s attention back towards him. To Iwaizumi’s slight shock, he could clearly see the displeased scowl on his king’s features.

Kuroo smiled. “I’m sure,” he purred and began towards the main building. Oikawa followed, then his direct royal guard as well as other Nekoman soldiers. Iwaizumi felt a tap on his shoulder and saw one of Oikawa’s advisors-- Watari, he thought-- smiling up at him.

“Come with me please, Iwaizumi-kun,” the man prompted, then turned and began to weave his way through the crowd. Iwaizumi followed without complaint, his cheeks burning under the eyes of people they passed. Watari led him out towards the stables, humming softly under his breath.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asked kindly, and Iwaizumi nodded and smiled.

“I wasn’t expecting the king to be so…” he trailed off, unsure of how to finish his thought, but Watari seemed to catch on.

“He  _ has  _ taken a bit of a shine to you.” Watari laughed and sent him a wink, a pleased expression on his face. “He’s not the only one, though.”

Iwaizumi attempted a smile but found himself coming up blank. “Is he-- is he just leading me on?” he asked suddenly, biting his cheek in embarrassment. “I mean, he’s the  _ king, _ surely he had better things to do than attend to me.”

Watari slowed to a stop, his bright smile replaced with a slight frown. “I know he owes a great debt to your father,” he said, “which is a story of  _ his  _ to tell you, but…”

The elder shook his head. “You’re handsome and talented,” Watari said simply. “Rank doesn’t much matter to Oikawa-san if he sees something in you that he likes.”

Iwaizumi nodded slowly, his shoulders gradually relaxing. “What about our ages, though?” he asked, slightly nervous. “I’m still a minor, I’m only seventeen.”

Watari sighed. “I think that you should stop thinking about it so much,” he advised and continued to walk. “If you have a problem with Oikawa-san’s advances, take them to him. Things will change once you turn eighteen.”

Unsure how to respond, Iwaizumi nodded again and fell silent.

The two worked in the stables until dark-- Iwaizumi ended up sweaty and exhausted, his hands calloused from working with saddles and hay loads. Watari was clearly tired as well but the shorter still put on a friendly smile, handing Iwaizumi a canteen of water after having chugged some himself.

“Gratifying, isn’t it?” Watari asked, his eyes bright against the rapidly darkening sky.

“Hard work always is,” Iwaizumi answered simply, smiling back and setting down the now-empty canteen.

“Come on, squirt,” Watari teased, smacking Iwaizumi’s shoulder as he passed, “I’ll walk you back. Shower before dinner, yeah? You’re feasting in the main house today.”

Iwaizumi stiffened in surprise, quickly catching up to the other. “I’m  _ what? _ ”

“Yeah, Oikawa-san wanted me to tell you.” Watari grinned over at him. “He’s introducing you to powerful figures from Nekoma. Called it your ‘briefing’.”

Iwaizumi frowned, clenching and unclenching his hands slowly. “What does he  _ want  _ from me?” he muttered, once again voicing his previous concerns. “Why is he going through all of this trouble? I’m not anyone of importance, at least yet.”

Watari suddenly stopped walking, jabbing Iwaizumi in the chest with his finger. “That right there,” he said enthusiastically, “ _ that’s  _ why he likes you. You want to become important to the king, don’t you? To your home?”

“I-- yes? Who doesn’t?”

“Your father single-handedly saved the future of the royal family as we know it, and had been clawing his way up the ranks since he was your age. Oikawa-san’s father saw something in him, just as he sees something in you.” Watari folded his arms proudly. “Now, before you ask, the late Highness and your father weren’t  _ lovers, _ but they were incredibly close, and although Oikawa-san has a devoted following and kingdom, he wants someone who will stay by his side, and-- I think you could be that person for him.”

Iwaizumi opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “Okay,” he said in a rather meek voice.

“Are you done with the questions now?”

“... yes.”

“Good.” Watari turned and continued towards the castle, his lantern swinging by his side. “Hurry up, Iwaizumi-kun. Dinner is in an hour and you shouldn’t keep the kings waiting.”

With a new kind of excitement flowing through his veins, Iwaizumi almost tripped over himself in his haste to follow.

***

“No, no… we need something that compliments your eyes.”

Iwaizumi repressed his urge to groan as Oikawa tossed aside yet another garment. “Wasn’t the last one fine?” he pleaded, glancing nervously up at the clock.

“Yes, if you were a woman and fifty years older,” Oikawa scoffed, rummaging through his closet and pulling out a fairly modest white tunic with bluish-silver trim. “Hm… this might actually work. Off with the shirt, Iwa-chan, come now!”

His entire face burning with embarrassment Iwaizumi shed his dark green shirt and set it aside, hyper-aware of all the skin he was showing. “We’ve been doing this for twenty minutes,” he said. “If I didn’t know better, you’re just trying to see how many times I can take off my shirt.”

Oikawa glanced up at him, a slightly mischievous smile on his face. “And if I am?” he asked innocently, batting his long lashes and chucking Iwaizumi the tunic. 

Iwaizumi, who definitely wasn’t expecting such a response, merely ducked his head and slipped on the tunic.

“Oh…” Oikawa tapped his lips with his fingers and stepped forward. “Oh, that looks  _ good. _ It always hung too loose on my shoulders, but you…”

Oikawa reached out, running his hands down the length of Iwaizumi’s torso, tugging on the fabric in places and grinning. “This one, for  _ sure. _ ”

“Really?” Iwaizumi asked doubtfully, scrunching up his nose. “It feels so… formal.”

“You will be dining with royalty tonight,” Oikawa reminded, steering Iwaizumi around by his shoulders and examining the back. “I think it looks wonderful.”

With no warning, Iwaizumi felt arms slither around his waist, Oikawa’s hands coming to rest on his belt buckle. 

“Don’t you?” the king’s voice was smoother than honey in his ear, his nimble fingers undoing the clasp and letting the belt slide from its loops. Iwaizumi hadn’t realized he’d stopped breathing, but managed to croak out a rather weak “ _ what are you doing…? _ ”

“Your pants,” Oikawa said formally, stepping back in one swift motion and crossing his arms. “They come off. You need something darker to complement the tunic.” 

Iwaizumi took just a moment to steady himself, his heart squeezing the air from his lungs with all its thrashing. “You could have just  _ told  _ me that,” he scolded, wrinkling his nose at the older man.

And when Oikawa laughed, honest and full, Iwaizumi had forgotten that man was a king.

***

When the pair arrived at dinner, Iwaizumi was thoroughly surprised to find that he was seated between two of Oikawa’s advisors, Hanamaki and Matsukawa. He was guided to his seat by a hand on his back and was left with a fond smile, Oikawa taking his seat at the head of the table.

“Ah, the stars of the show,” Kuroo hummed, lifting his wine glass slightly. “Didn’t know if you were gonna make it, Tooru.”

“Then you should know better, Tetsu-chan,” Oikawa shot back, his voice all fake-sweet. Iwaizumi tugged anxiously on his napkin, glancing at Matsukawa for reassurance but receiving none. 

“Ignore them,” a new voice supplied, and Iwaizumi glanced to his right to see Hanamaki surveying the kings with mild amusement. “They bicker all the time, it’s nothing to worry your pretty little head over."

Annoyance curled in Iwaizumi’s gut. “That’s not all I am,” he defended, his hands stilling on his lap. He barely believed the words, anyway. Hanamaki raised his eyebrows, perhaps in appreciation, but any answer he could have voiced was taken by Oikawa.

“Alright, enough with the chitchat,” he said in his easy, commanding voice that Iwaizumi had only heard a handful of times before. Almost instantly, the table quieted.

“This dinner will not only commemorate our welcoming of the king of Nekoma,” Oikawa announced, “but also to celebrate the birthday of our stable head and member of the royal guard, Shinji Watari.”

Iwaizumi smiled and clapped politely along with everyone else, briefly meeting eyes with Watari, who cast him a knowing grin and a wink.

“April is upon us,” Oikawa continued, effortlessly cutting off the remaining applause. “We’re exiting the dark and the cold, and starting our path into new growth and discovery.”

Iwaizumi definitely didn’t imagine it-- Oikawa locked eyes with him as he spoke next-- “I hope everyone here has people they can trust to guide them into this new time, of renewal and fertility.”

“Here, here,” Kuroo muttered, and Iwaizumi took a cautious sip of his wine along with the others.

For the first hour, things went extremely smoothly. Iwaizumi had never eaten so well in his life, but just when his eyelids had begun to droop in a satisfied sort of way, the point of focus at the table shifted to him.

“So,” Kuroo said suddenly, a slight grin on his eerily catlike features, “who is this new addition, Tooru?”

Oikawa’s eyes flickered, displeased. “Iwa-chan will be the newest addition to the royal guard training program upon turning eighteen,” he said stiffly. Iwaizumi, of course, now felt completely awake. “He’s the son of one of the best soldiers this kingdom has ever known.”

Kuroo, while looking curious, also sent Iwaizumi a disbelieving glance. “He’s not even eighteen?” he asked, doubtful. 

“No.” Oikawa took a sip from his wine glass. “Is that a problem, Tetsu-chan?”

“Not at all, I’m just…” Kuroo pursed his lips thoughtfully. “I’m surprised, I suppose. I haven’t seen him around here before, so naturally, I wondered what exactly his deal was.”

“He’s  _ my  _ deal,” Oikawa said with a smile and a tone of voice that clearly meant the conversation was over.

The table was quiet, apart from the soft clinking of cutlery. Iwaizumi took a small bite from his chocolate mousse, oddly self-aware after Kuroo’s inquisitions. He could feel the eyes of other Nekomans on him, analyzing him, sizing him up. Suddenly feeling rather ill, he put down his spoon and washed the chocolate down with water.

A bit of forced conversation followed, but for the most part, Iwaizumi got the sense that everyone else wanted the dinner to be over as much as him. Oikawa had a rather blank look on his face, his upper lip slightly curled.

“I think I speak for most of us when I say that although this dinner was as delicious as it was delightful, I am more than ready for bed,” Kuroo declared the exact moment Iwaizumi thought it best. Oikawa blinked a couple of times and smiled.

“I’ll have to agree.” He rose, placing his napkin on his lap and leading the other diners in doing so. “Tetsurou, I thank you for another lovely dinner, and I hope to recreate this scenario soon.” The kings shared another charged look, the kind that you had to be specifically looking for to see. Iwaizumi frowned and stepped back, pushing in his chair and glancing up at Kuroo. Their eyes met for a heartbeat and Iwaizumi tore away first, his stomach in knots. 

To his bitter disappointment, Oikawa had already left the table, his head bowed as the had a rather hushed conversation with Watari. Iwaizumi shook his head slightly and turned, intent on getting back to his room without any more interruptions.

“Iwa-chan, hm?”

Iwaizumi turned. “Iwaizumi, actually.”

Kuroo smiled down at him, his head slightly tilted. “I hope you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

Their eye contact didn’t waver. “I do,” he said, firm, finding it difficult to maintain the look once he saw Oikawa in his peripheral vision. 

“Iwa-chan,” Oikawa called, and Iwaizumi broke his somewhat challenging contact with Kuroo just in time to react to Oikawa grabbing onto his arm and gripping it, vice-like. “Could you come with me? I’d like a quick word.”

“What, already?” Kuroo’s voice was tinged with disappointment. “We were just getting to know each other.”

Oikawa’s narrowed gaze turned to Iwaizumi. “Were you?”

“Oh, come on,” Kuroo started, “look, you’ve scared the kid--”

“Don’t speak for me,” Iwaizumi snapped, and realized his mistake a heartbeat too late.

His mother had instilled it into him from a very young age not to take undeserved grief from anyone, and while it hadn’t earned him much trouble at home, she’d apparently glossed over real-world consequences. Kuroo’s eyes widened and Oikawa’s hand slid down to his own, their knuckles brushing, and Iwaizumi chose to take the gesture as silent support.

“I wouldn’t say I’m not used to being talked back to,” Kuroo said after a moment, “but it is rather refreshing, coming from someone other than my father, my sister, or this loon. Oikawa, you’ve found a keeper.”

A tremendous weight lifted from Iwaizumi’s chest, and Oikawa smiled grimly. “I know,” he answered, smug.

Kuroo bowed his head slightly, giving them both a Cheshire grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, gentlemen,” he said, then turned and left quite simply.

It took Iwaizumi a moment, but before too long, the weight came crashing back. “Oh god, that could have gotten me killed,” he breathed, raising both hands and covering his face. “He just-- he presses my buttons, that’s all.”

“He’s kind of notorious for that,” Oikawa mused, taking Iwaizumi’s hands and prying them back down. “Don’t let him get to you too much, alright, Iwa-chan?”

Iwaizumi nodded slowly, though his entire body was still shrieking its protests. “What did you want to talk to me about?”

“Oh, nothing. I just had a feeling you wanted to be saved from Tetsu-chan.” Oikawa smiled a little. “He can take some time to get used to, hm?”

Embarrassed, Iwaizumi glanced away. “I-- I suppose so, yes.”

Oikawa smiled a little wider. He’s still holding Iwaizumi’s hands in his own, and the younger man watches with wide eyes as Oikawa steps forward and kisses his cheek, only once, very gently.

“I hope you enjoyed your dinner, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa said warmly, cupping Iwaizumi’s other cheek, gazing down at him. “Have a pleasant evening."

He stepped back; Iwaizumi felt the breath rush back into his lungs. Oikawa turned and he hastened to do the same, his cheeks bright red, his heart pounding.  


***

_ There was an inky warmth traveling down his body, through his chest, settling low in his gut. Iwaizumi could feel it, and keened for it, his hands shooting outwards blindly but not finding anyone. _

_ “I know you want this, Hajime,” a soft voice murmured into his ear, and Iwaizumi arched into the touch that lingered against his skin. He could hear himself mumbling, pleading, but what exactly he was saying was undecipherable. The touch slid down, past his chest, along the sharp curves of his hips. Iwaizumi clenched, his entire body tensing, unable to get the relief he sought. A soft moan parted his lips, his mind spinning and his vision non-existent. _

_ “Tooru,” he whispered, the words relieving a heavy weight from his chest. “Tooru, I--” _

_ The words became a mantra, repeated over and over again until they garbled together and made no sense. Iwaizumi felt lighter than air, climbing higher and higher, then-- _

Iwaizumi’s eyes snapped open. The reality took a moment to set in but once it had he rolled onto his back with a groan, snagging a pillow and smushing his face into it. Disappointment twisted in his chest but something slightly more  _ urgent  _ grabbed his attention, and Iwaizumi, deeming himself unfit to do anything else, sank into the warm covers as well as a fantasy.

***

The ball was approaching, fast. April was half over and a newfound warmth was settling, both over the land and in the hearts of those on it. The ball was scheduled for two days before the Nekomans’ departure, as a farewell gift. Kuroo was a renowned dancer, as was Oikawa, and it was traditional for people of high status to have multiple dates. Iwaizumi was slightly detached as he watched the bustle of preparation-- he wasn’t allowed to help, and instead encouraged to continue his drills. The closer the ball got, the more antsy Iwaizumi became, and the busier (and more detached) the kings became. Iwaizumi wasn’t given much time to sulk, however, since he buried himself in practice and readings and magic. It seemed like no time had passed until it was the day of the ball and he was being delivered a fitted outfit.

There was a knock on the door. Iwaizumi finished fastening the belt around his waist and opened it. “Oh, hello, Watari-san.”

“Just Watari.” The shorter male smiled widely. “You ready? I’m gonna escort you do the dance so that you’re not jumped in the hallways.”

Iwaizumi chuckled nervously. “I doubt that would happen, Watari.”

Watari brushed the comment off and extended an arm. “Come on,” he urged. “Let’s not keep anyone waiting.”

***

Whatever Iwaizumi had been expecting-- and he wasn’t even sure what that was-- it wasn’t was he received.

The ballroom had been beautifully decorated for spring, and to fit the theme, everyone was dressed in hues of yellow, green, or orange. The dancers that had arrived early lazily twirled around one another in splashes of warm color, flowers adoring hair and breast pockets. Iwaizumi’s breath is taken away by Oikawa, whom he sees first-- he looks amazing in slim green robes. He glances over and smiles radiantly.

“Iwa-chan, you made it!” he said brightly as if he’d been expecting him not to come. His lips brush Iwaizumi’s cheeks. “You look very handsome.”

Iwaizumi smiled sheepishly. “So do you,” he said, biting his lower lip a little. Oikawa laughed, carefree and soft.

“Unfortunately this is more of a diplomatic occasion than anything else,” Oikawa sighed, clasping his hands loosely. “Discussing trade, filling people up with fine food and drink to make them more agreeable-- you know the tale.”

He didn’t but nodded anyway. “Will you be dancing?” he asked, voice tentative.

Oikawa smiled again. “Maybe.”

Iwaizumi hoped that his disappointment wasn’t showing when Oikawa was once again approached by ambassadors from Nekoma. He turned and scanned for the raven-haired king, but he seemed to be absent

“Come on, Hajime, loosen up,” Watari said, and the use of his given name had Iwaizumi turning to him in shock. The older, shorter male smiled up at him.

“Let’s dance.”

***

The evening was a whirlwind of food and dancing and idle chatter. Iwaizumi tried multiple times to snag the attention of his king, not succeeding once, with Oikawa being the cynosure center of admiration. He watched as the dancers on the floor finished up their routine and another song began to start, a fast tempo, a warm-up as the musicians urged people to take the floor.

“Hey.”

A smooth, familiar voice jolted Iwaizumi out of his trance. Turning slightly, he saw Kuroo standing at his shoulder, elegantly dressed and blinking down at him slowly. It was the first time Iwaizumi had seen him all evening. “Hello,” Iwaizumi answered softly, tearing his gaze away from the snug fit of Kuroo’s outfit. The older male rounded to his front, holding out a hand and clearing his throat.

“Would you like to dance with me?” he asked, the corners of his mouth turning upwards in a small smile. Iwaizumi’s heart kicked into overdrive-- any hesitation faded when he glanced over to see Oikawa conversing with a few other people, his back turned, completely ignoring. Whether or not it was intention didn’t matter.

“I’d like that very much,” Iwaizumi said firmly, taking Kuroo’s hand and rising. The dark-haired king smiled and led him out towards the center of the room, his presence clearing them an easy path. Iwaizumi was always more nervous around Kuroo than he was around Oikawa, and this was no exception when the Nekoman king turned to face him.

“Do you know how to dance, Hajime?” he murmured after leaning forward, his lips brushing the shell of Iwaizumi’s ear. It took everything in his power not to shudder. In his peripheral vision, he saw Oikawa’s eyes on them, unmoving for the first time.

Iwaizumi blinked quickly. “I do,” he said, simply. Kuroo smiled and pulled away, kissing the back of Iwaizumi’s hands before getting them into position. 

Having only danced with his mother as practice before, dancing with a man like Kuroo was a completely different experience. Kuroo took the lead, of course, but their steps were so easily in sync that Iwaizumi found himself smiling widely only a minute or two in. He could tell, vaguely, that they had captured the attention of the room, but the only thing that Iwaizumi was focused on was the sequence of their steps, the rhythm of the music, and the unspoken support that Kuroo provided him. 

One by one, more dancers accompanied them. Iwaizumi could feel the seamless rush of the dance, the heat of the moment, then effortless sway to the melody. Kuroo smiled down at him and drew him closer, tightening their embrace for the final spin, the one that left Iwaizumi arched backward in the circle of Kuroo’s arms. The dance tapered off as the music did, but the furious beat of his heart didn’t slow at all. Slowly, Iwaizumi straightened, his breathing slightly labored as Kuroo slid a hand to his lower back.

“You were marvelous,” he purred, raising his other hand to cup Iwaizumi’s cheek. The younger man’s chest tightened when a thumb ran along the flesh of his bottom lip, Kuroo’s intent suddenly clear. 

“Stop,” he whispered, forcing himself to take a step back. Kuroo’s eyes widened-- Iwaizumi’s cheeks flushed darkly-- but he held his head high.

“I’m sorry, Kuroo-san, I just… I can’t…”

Kuroo, however, took the rejection without missing a beat. “I understand,” he said, his voice borderline curt as he, too, stepped back. “Thank you for dancing with me, Hajime.”

Then, a slightly sad smile, Kuroo vanished into the crowd.

Slowly, the buzz of chatter returned. They had witnessed something rare, after all-- a king requesting courtship, or maybe just a kiss to seal the dance, only to be turned down. ‘ _ How arrogant, _ ’ the voices whispered. ‘ _ I would have let him take me, to have the chance to be with a king. _ ’

“Hajime.”

Iwaizumi turned, slowly, his brow furrowed. Oikawa, his king, stood a few yards away. His face was oddly impassive. “Tooru,” Iwaizumi answered, the name foreign on his lips in this context, his hands slightly shaky as they lowered to rest at his sides.

It happened quickly, not providing enough time for Iwaizumi to react. Oikawa strode forward and in the same heartbeat, he’s cupping Iwaizumi’s cheeks, pulling him close, kissing him square on the mouth.

Iwaizumi heard them over the hush-- ‘ _ that’s why _ ’ and ‘ _ who is he _ ’ and ‘ _ why him _ ’. His head was spinning and he didn’t realize that he’d leaned forward when Oikawa pulled away, instinctively wanting more, his hands reaching for the brown-haired king’s.

Their lips met again. It was more certain that time, despite the attention on them; maybe because of it. Iwaizumi relaxed into the touch and shivered when they pulled apart again.

“I’m sorry,” Oikawa said, eyes on Iwaizumi’s, “I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

Iwaizumi bit his lower lip. “I didn’t want you to, either,” he murmured, grinning a little nervously.

He knew that that was common for kings to take lovers, especially since Oikawa was unmarried. Iwaizumi tried to rationalize it, why he was being chosen over curvy maids or handsome nobles-- Oikawa’s hand slid into his, and he squeezed gently, and Iwaizumi allowed himself to forget.

He forgot… everything. The eyes of onlookers, of kings and diplomats, of the age and experience and rank separating him and his partner. Burned into his mind instead is the rhythm of Oikawa’s dance, of their clasped hands, of their lips meeting again and again and again. They danced well into the night, until their breaths were coming short and fast and their limbs were exhausted.   
  
It was when their foreheads press together that Iwaizumi remembered-- a special kind of panic closed in and his expression twisted, but Oikawa kissed it away; and when they parted, and Iwaizumi headed back to his room, he imagined that it was Oikawa’s hands on him as he made himself forget all over again.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally, this is up!! it took a while and i'm still somewhat iffy about some parts, but ah, oh well. enjoy!!

When the visiting kingdom left, it wasn’t nearly as grand as Iwaizumi had been hoping. There was no great celebration, no feast-- just a quick meeting among nobles and a few last-minute trades. Iwaizumi remembered standing in front of Kuroo with his head bowed and his eyes downcast. Kuroo had looked at him longer than anyone else, as if he was hoping for a reaction. Upon getting nothing, he had left.

The disappointment there, however, was nothing compared to the feeling of elation in Iwaizumi’s chest whenever he was visited by Oikawa, or vise versa. Days had passed since their first kiss but it had been minutes since their most recent, and it was the only thing on Iwaizumi’s mind.

Watari was not happy about this. “Hajime, you’re spacing out again,” he said with a frown. “Are these lessons no longer engaging?”

Iwaizumi’s eyes widened a fraction. “That’s not it,” he defended hastily, “I’m just… distracted.”

The older man glanced down at the thick book lying between them. “They are kind of boring, anyway,” he declared, and swiped the book onto the floor. Iwaizumi blinked. 

He had little time to react before Watari was lunging across the table, a childlike playfulness in his eyes. “How would you like to learn about something more fun?” he asked eagerly.

“‘Fun’...?” Iwaizumi hesitated. “What do you mean?”

Watari laughed and sits back into his chair, folding his arms loosely. Birdsong floated through the open windows. “What do you know of magic, Hajime?”

“Um…” Iwaizumi began, articulately. “I know that it has supposedly been around for a long time, prevalent only in royal families due to strict inbreeding, briefly outlawed a while back for being demonic…”

“Correct.” Watari nodded sharply. “You know the history that most people do.  _ Now _ , you’re going to get the version you should.”

Iwaizumi blinked again. “Is what I was taught not true?”

“It is,” Watari relented, “to an extent. You had been told that magical blood had died out, right?”

Iwaizumi nods. “ _ Wrong _ ,” Watari hissed, eyes gleaming.

The older man stood abruptly and pulled out a thick book from one of the shelves. It looked like it should have been covered in dust, but it was immaculately cared for. “This,” Watari announced, “is a history of the Oikawa bloodline.”

He turned the book so that the pages faced Iwaizumi. There’s a definite line where the pages stop being worn-- after Watari turned to those pages, Iwaizumi realized with a jolt that it was a running version. “It’s still being updated?” he asked, surprised.

“Correct again!” Watari smiled and put the hefty volume down in front of him. “Now, this beauty is no personal diary-- it holds family secrets, insights to certain trades and actions, old spells, hexes, charms.”

Watari smiled wider and pulled the book from Iwaizumi’s reach just as he’d begun to move forward. “You cannot go through this without a living member of the Oikawa line present.”

“That was cruel, Watari-san,” Iwaizumi muttered.

“Luckily,” Watari pressed, snapping his fingers-- the door opened, though not on its own, it was pushed from the other side-- “you have one.”

Oikawa stepped through the doorway and beamed. “Hi, Iwa-chan. Surprised?”

Iwaizumi gaped like a fish out of water. “A little,” he said, unnecessarily. “You have magic?”

“Of course I do!” Oikawa’s laugh was light-hearted, soft. “You think I would let Kuroo Tetsurou into my kingdom if I didn’t have a way to defend it? Use your head, my little Hajime~”

Iwaizumi recalled what Oikawa had said to him before the Nekomans’ arrival, in the staircase. “I didn’t know that meant  _ magic _ .”

“Of course it did. You couldn’t sense it? Tetsurou isn’t that charming naturally.”

“I couldn’t tell much difference between his antics and yours,  _ Oikawa-san _ .”

“What? Yes, you could. He was using a type of Glamor.”

“No, I couldn’t. It seemed like he was just as naturally charming as you. Were you tricking me, Highness?”

“Of course not!! I don’t use Glamor on people I actually like!”

“So Kuroo didn’t actually like me?”

“That’s not--” Oikawa sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Iwa- _ chan _ , you’re giving me grey hairs. What I  _ meant  _ was that yes, the Tetsurou bloodline also holds magic, as does the Sugawara, Akaashi, Ushiwaka, Daishou, on and on.”

“Okay.” Iwaizumi sat on his hands, content with the amount of stress he’d caused his king. Watari snickered. “Is it just magical families?”

Oikawa shook his head a little. “No. Occasionally we find a random civilian-- a farmer or a shop owner who has traces of magic in his blood, probably the great-grandchild of some royal sibling who got frisky. The magic is so dormant that it often just spikes up randomly; when someone is asleep or in the bath or the like.” 

Iwaizumi was fascinated. “So are there different branches of magic?”

Oikawa shrugged and waved a hand. “Yes and no. Here--” he sat on the plush couch and motioned for Iwaizumi to do the same. “I’ll show you.”

Heart pounding, Iwaizumi stood from his chair, well aware of Watari’s eyes on them. “Will it hurt?” he asked slowly, sitting next to Oikawa and turning to face him. The king smiled and shook his head.

“You’re right when you ask if there are different branches of magic.” Oikawa reached out and took one of Iwaizumi’s hands, tracing the lines that ran across his palm, following them up through his fingers. “It’s different for everyone, though. Some people can really only manipulate one element-- say, water-- and not much else. Some are versatile with any or all elements, even those that require dedication and endless hours to learn. Some can specialize in one or two, but are physically unable to do anything else.”

Oikawa pushed their palms together. “I am the second type. Kuroo Tetsurou is the third.”

“So…” Iwaizumi licked his lips quickly. “What  _ can’t  _ you do?”

“Bake anything without burning it,” Watari supplied. Oikawa shot him a glare.

“Watacchi, shut up.” He turned his attention back towards Iwaizumi. “Honestly… I can’t do anything that I know would intentionally harm anyone else.”

Iwaizumi blinked. “What?”

“Do you trust me?” Oikawa asked suddenly, intense brown eyes locked on Iwaizumi’s own. The younger man nodded slowly.

Oikawa smiled warmly and twined their fingers together. Iwaizumi felt his palm grow warm and he looked down to their hands in shock-- Oikawa’s own was glowing a little. “Wh-what--”

“Relax,” Oikawa interrupted gently, and Iwaizumi took a deep breath. He watched as Oikawa’s hand ceased its glowing and began to turn blue, sending shivers up Iwaizumi’s spine. It warmed again, like it was thawing, and went back to a normal temperature. 

It wasn’t over yet, though. His hand began to thrum and vibrate ever-so-slightly, heating up a tad, feeling as if it were changing right in front of them. Something pokey wrapped around Iwaizumi’s pinky finger.

“What the hell?!” Iwaizumi yelped, but Oikawa put a hand on his knee and slowly pulled his other away.

There was a rose in Iwaizumi’s palm, most definitely alive, its petals stretching into the light cast from the window. Iwaizumi laughed in disbelief as the rose’s tiny, thorny branches crept up his fingers and gently bit into his skin to find purchase. Iwaizumi’s face split into a grin. “This is amazing,” he said, admiring the rose from all angles. It was still growing-- the vines didn’t hurt, but they had to secure themselves around Iwaizumi’s wrist. “Why don’t they…?”

“Pinch yourself,” Oikawa hummed. Iwaizumi complied, surprised to find that he couldn’t feel anything. “I numbed you first.”

Iwaizumi looked up, suddenly understanding. “Because it would have hurt me.”

Oikawa nods and smiles a little sadly. “You can see how things would get tricky with that inhibition.”

The rose had stopped growing, and was actually beginning to wilt. It shriveled up into itself and no one said anything until it vanished into thin air. Iwaizumi could feel his hand again. “Does every magic user have a restraint?”

“No.” Oikawa pursed his lips and stood up, stretching and leaning against the wall. “There was some… incest in my family. It limited my abilities.”

Iwaizumi grimaced a little and looked up at him. “Why are you telling me this?”

The king and his advisor shared a quick glance. “Well,” the former began slowly, “you would have begun to figure it out eventually if you are to stay by me like you want to.”

Iwaizumi could sense there was something he wasn’t being told. “And?” he pressed. Oikawa reluctantly pushed off of the wall and sat back down next to Iwaizumi.

“I told you that when magic remains dormant, it can often be released in sudden, violent bursts,” he said quietly. 

“... yes? So?”

Oikawa sighed softly, a little frustrated, a little reluctant. “Use your  _ head _ , Iwa-chan. Violent bursts. Often happening when one is asleep. Includes one of the elements of magic.”

Iwaizumi blinked slowly, then froze. “My house burned down in a fire,” he said thickly.

There was a long stretch of silence. “Correct,” Watari repeated quietly.

The young soldier opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again. “I killed my mother?” he asked, voice suddenly very quiet. Oikawa’s eyes went wide.

“Not necessarily,” he said quickly. “It could have been that, um, she had released the magic. We can’t tell yet.”

“‘Yet’?!” Iwaizumi stood, suddenly distressed. “There’s a chance that I killed her, though, right? And there’s a way to find out.”

Watari smacked the arm of the chair Iwaizumi had so suddenly vacated. “Sit down,” he said rather sharply. “Show your king some respect. He’s trying to explain.”

The look Oikawa gave was half amused, half apologetic. “It’s quite alright, Watacchi. He’s distraught.”

Slowly, Iwaizumi sat back down. “Does that mean we’re related?” he asked Oikawa bluntly. “You said there had been lots of inbreeding.”

The king blinked. “I certainly hope not. Plus, even if it were, our branches would be vastly different. Our common relative would be a dozen generations back.”

That made Iwaizumi relax, if only a little. “Okay, okay, so… what about my father?”

“As far as we know, your father had non-magical blood. The spark in you comes from your mother’s side.” Oikawa drummed his long fingers on his knee. “I… I wanted to see for myself.”

“So that’s why I’m here?” Iwaizumi asked slowly. “Not because of who my father was?”

“It’s both,” relented the king. “I wanted the son of the man who saved my life close to me, regardless of whether or not you actually had magic in you.”

“Which you do,” Watari supplied. Iwaizumi tugged on a few locks of his hair, trying to get his bearings.

“That’s why I’m so attracted to you,” Oikawa began. “Well, not  _ entirely _ , but-- you understand. Magic calls to magic, blood calls to blood. It’s also why Tetsu-chan has taken a special liking to you, and from what I can tell, your magic is more like his than mine. I think he sees you as a possible comrade, but perhaps… as a rival. Competition.”

Iwaizumi grimaced. “So my magic is destructive?” he asked dryly. Oikawa gave a thin smile.

“Not hardly, Iwa-chan. I can tell, yours is more… earthy.”

“He had just come from the stables, not an hour ago,” offered up Watari. “That could be what you sense.”

Oikawa rolled his eyes and lightly shoved his advisor. “Watacchi, if you’re not going to contribute to this conversation in a meaningful way--”

“I am,” Watari insisted. “Aren’t you going to test him?”

A nervous chill ran down Iwaizumi’s spine. “Test?”

“Yes, a test to see whether your magic is dormant or active.” Oikawa extended a hand and pulled him up. “This will determine whether the incident was because of you, or because of your mother.”

He hesitated. “It can be uncomfortable, Iwa-chan. Your magic and your soul, your lifeblood-- they’re all interconnected. I’ll try to be quick.”

“I appreciate it,” Iwaizumi grumbled. The king snorted and took both of his hands, turning them other and examining his palms. Outside, be it by chance or circumstance, the birds fell silent. Oikawa gently made him close his eyes and Iwaizumi forced himself to relax, taking deep breaths, feeling one of Oikawa’s hands slip out of his own and press to his sternum. An impending question rises in his throat but before he could vocalize it there’s a bizarre pressure all around him, suffocating him, wiping his mind clean of any thought.

It was strange, to have another person invade your subconscious like that. It’s Oikawa, he could vaguely tell, but his entire body was screaming ‘ _ danger, danger, outsider, invader _ ’, there’s blood rushing in his ears, until--

The next thing he could sense was his back pressing to the hardwood floor and the sun making his vision hot and white. He grimaced and covered his eyes, voices swimming all around him, like he was submerged underwater. It was terribly stuffy.

He managed to pick up on something. “You messed up, Tooru.”

“I  _ know _ , I know… I hadn’t meant to do that.”

“Of course not, but you did it anyway. Why did you go that far?”

“I couldn’t help it! It was  _ fascinating _ , Watacchi, he’s got so much potential.”

“Yes, well, you look ridiculous now.”

“Ridi--? What do you mean, Mattsun?”

“Your eyebrows got singed off.”

Oikawa’s yelp made Iwaizumi growl. “Please stop talking…”

When he opened his eyes, he was greeted with four intrigued gazes staring down at him. He blinked and took a deep breath, flinching. “I need air.”

Matsukawa withdrew and opened the window-- when had it shut? Iwaizumi practically threw his upper body out of it and took a few deep breaths, lungs straining, vision still slightly blurry. After he felt somewhat satisfied, he turned back around. 

Oikawa’s eyebrows were, indeed, missing. Watari had odd singe marks on his face and the entire room was in a disarray-- papers all over the place, spilled ink jars, books on the ceiling. As if recognizing this had triggered something, they all fell in unison. One of them thunks off of Hanamaki’s head. “Um…”

“Well, the good news is, you’ve certainly got magic,” Oikawa said, breaking the silence. He was grinning, huge and genuine.

“And it is no longer dormant.” Hanamaki nabbed a quill from Matsukawa’s hair. “Far from it.”

“This was me?!” Iwaizumi’s jaw dropped. “No-- no way. It can’t be this strong.”

“Believe it, Iwa-chan.” Oikawa leaned forward, eyes huge and shining. “We’ve got work to do.”

***

From then on, his lessons began to change. His time got split between researching the history of magic to trying to incorporate it into his training, with help from Watari. He felt an exponential rise in his abilities, for sure, but each session left him drained and utterly spent. Oikawa had been a tremendous help-- his words, his touch became the fuel in Iwaizumi’s belly, they chased away the exhaustion, fought to keep him focused. More often than not, he would sleep in the king’s bed after their offbeat sort of therapy. He felt safer that way, and waking up to a snoring, drooling Oikawa quelled the dull ache in his chest. 

He was getting  _ very  _ impatient for his eighteenth birthday.

It was late May by now, and everything was in full swing. Iwaizumi had learned many things-- he could strike and parry almost faster than the eye could follow, his stamina allowed hours of training on end, and he could make plants grow at will (courtesy of Oikawa). His days were a whirlwind of knowledge, training, preparing, and June arrived with heart-pounding promise.

Three days.

Three days until his birthday, June 10th, until the unspoken promise between himself and the king could finally be carried out.

They had come close a couple of times-- late at night, when it was just the two of them, when Iwaizumi’s would hands roam and his pupils were blown wide. “ _ I want to _ ,” he would whisper, “ _ won’t you let me _ ?” 

“ _ No _ ,” the king would insist, reluctantly catching the younger’s wandering hands, “ _ we just have to wait a little longer _ .”

Excitement was thrumming in Iwaizumi’s veins when his birthday finally arrives. He’s not excused from training, but he does expect it to be slightly different. Watari had said to come prepared, and though he’s not quite sure the extent to which he means, Iwaizumi stumbled out of his bed and grabbed a satchel.

The hall was buzzing with life, even only an hour after sunrise. Iwaizumi greeted Kindaichi, a junior coordinator, before accidentally bumping into Matsukawa. The tall, raven-haired man blinked. “In a rush?”

“Only a slight one.” Iwaizumi couldn’t stop grinning. “It’s my birthday.”

A knowing smirk made its way onto Matsukawa’s face. “Ah,” he said, “I get it. You’ve been nice and patient, I’m sure Tooru is more than willing to indulge you now.”

Iwaizumi shivered a bit. “I hope so. Where is he?”

“Outside,” said Hanamaki, who takes a bite of an apple before sidling up to them. “At least, I think.”

Iwaizumi nodded and glanced between the two of them. Matsukawa is nonchalantly running his fingers along Hanamaki’s short hair and the other man is almost purring, chewing having slowed to savor the moment. Iwaizumi went to say something just as Hanamaki winked at him. “Make way for the Great King~,” he called, and the younger man look over to see Oikawa, with swirling robes and perfectly sculpted hair, striding into the hall.

Oikawa beamed and immediately heads for Iwaizumi, capturing his hand and pulling him in close. “Happy birthday,” he said warmly, rubbing their noses together. Unsatisfied, Iwaizumi surged forward to kiss him properly, but is denied with a teasing laugh.

“No no, Iwa-chan,” he murmured, “none of that now. All in good time.”

“You’ve been saying that for months.” Iwaizumi resisted the strong urge to huff and stomp his foot like the child he was trying so hard to distance himself from. “I feel like I’ve waited long enough."

The king merely grinned and pulled away, one hand still in Iwaizumi’s. “Tonight, my dear. I promise you.”

Iwaizumi let out a breath but doesn’t protest, his heart beating with strong anticipation. He knew he needed to find something to occupy himself with, or else he might go crazy waiting. 

An opportunity presented itself before too long. “Hajime!” called a voice, and Iwaizumi glanced over to see Watari approaching. “Happy birthday, kid.” 

“Thanks,” Iwaizumi answered, grinning a bit and allowing his mentor to pull him into a tight hug. “It’s… exhilarating.”

Watari’s eyebrows quirk up. “Oh? Why’s that?”

Iwaizumi sent Oikawa a sly glance. “Well,  _ him _ , and… the fact that I’m going to officially be training under the title of a royal guard from now on.”

The king’s spine stiffened just slightly and Watari gave a slow nod. “It’s going to be tough,” he warned, unnecessarily. Iwaizumi lifted his chin.

“I’m prepared to deal with that.”

***

Breakfast was a blur-- all congratulations and toasts from the friends he had made at the palace. Oikawa had pulled him aside for a moment through it all and asked him to meet by the ‘big tree’ at four. When Iwaizumi had tried to question him, the king had merely slipped away with an excited glint in his eye. Apprehensive, but curious, Iwaizumi had turned to Watari.

“Oh, he means the Elder Tree.” Watari tapped his chin. “A giant oak way behind the castle-- there’s no way you could miss it.”

“Just how ‘giant’?” Iwaizumi asked skeptically. Watari just grinned.

“You’ll see. Anyway, aren’t you interested in what I have planned for you?”

“Interested, yes, also a little wary,” guffawed Iwaizumi. “Are you going to teach me a new spell?”

Watari laughed. “Not quite. You’re going to spar with me.”

That made Iwaizumi frown and hesitate. “I’ve already sparred with you.”

“Ah ah ah.” Watari smirked. “I have helped you along in learning specific techniques. You have never fully taken me on.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes glinted. “Then I am most definitely interested… I just have to make it to meet Oikawa in time.”

“You will,” reassured Watari. “Come on, let’s get changed.”

***

Iwaizumi had grown fairly confident in his abilities over the past few weeks, though those would definitely be put to the test during his spar with Watari. His mentor had never fully fought him, of course, using very little of his own magic and relying mostly on his physical strength and speed. The first match was over so quickly that Iwaizumi could barely think. “What…”

He’d fallen backward, with Watari looming over him, practice blade angled at his chest. The man grinned. “Surprised?”

“A little,” Iwaizumi admitted, accepting the help up. “You moved so  _ fast _ .”

That was amusing to Watari, apparently, since he gave a boisterous laugh. “Again.”

Iwaizumi, a little more prepared this time, lifted the blade to his nose before carefully stepping forward. There was a flash of lunge, parry, strike-- the mere force of it sends him staggering backward. Iwaizumi was in shock. “How are you  _ doing  _ that?”

“Again, kid,” Watari demanded, a competitive glimmer in his eyes Iwaizumi had yet to see. They face off and Iwaizumi focuses more on just getting out of the way, his eyes scanning Watari’s nearly blurred limbs for something unusual. When he saw a brief bluish glow he gave a triumphant shout, seconds before Watari landed a solid hit that sent him flying off his feet.

“I saw it!” Iwaizumi stood quickly, brushing the dirt from his knees. “You-- your shoulder!”

“Oh, very good. That takes a keen eye.” Watari looked proud. “Do you want to know what I was doing?”

“Of course,” Iwaizumi answered, taking a small step forward. Watari’s smile only grew.

“Nothing.”

Iwaizumi paused. “I’m sorry?”

Watari smirked. “At least, I wasn’t doing  _ much _ . I was using magic, of course, but rather than using it for flashy attacks I just integrated it into my own movements. It takes practice, but once you get the hang of it…”

“I can do that?” Iwaizumi’s heartbeat quickened at the thought. “I can move like that?”

“Faster than that,” Watari corrected, “since your magic is a little stronger than mine, I think, not to mention your physical capabilities. One more time, then I’ll begin the hands-on training.”

Invigorated, Iwaizumi nodded, getting into position rather hastily. This match fares no better for him but he brushed off the loss, genuine curiosity eating him from the inside out. Watari had been right-- it doesn’t take much effort to focus his power inwards rather than out, but his muscles grow tired extremely quickly and Iwaizumi found himself barely able to stand after another hour or so of training. He might have completely forgotten about his obligation to Oikawa had it not been for Watari.

“I think it’s about time,” said the shorter man, glancing up at the sky. Iwaizumi cursed to himself.

“Oh, no-- I hope I’m not late,” Iwaizumi muttered, grabbing his satchel and shedding his practice armor.

“You won’t be,” Watari said, shaking his head. “At least, he won’t be mad if you are. He knows what I had planned for you today, and that you’re the type to work until mastery.”

That made Iwaizumi slow. “I am?” he asked, tilting his head slightly. He had honestly never noticed. Watari just smiles.

“Go on, now. Don’t make your king wait. We’ll resume training tomorrow. This concept might take a while to fully grasp, so I’ll be sure to plan out a cohesive program for you.”

Iwaizumi nodded and turned to leave, but Watari caught his arm. “Oh, and one last thing?”

He grinned. “Happy birthday, Hajime.”

***

Finding the oak  _ was  _ easier than expected, though not quite for the reasons Iwaizumi had been anticipating. Squinting at it from the trees’ edge Iwaizumi could tell that it was very far away, but the forest seemed to continuously shift and guide him in the right direction. The air hummed with magic and life and it made the blood in his veins sing.

Oikawa was  _ very  _ high up, and Iwaizumi almost staggers backward trying to spot him amongst the massive branches. “... Oikawa?”

“Iwa-chan!” His voice carried surprisingly well, though. “Climb up.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes turn to the massive tree trunk and he immediately spotted a problem-- there were no branches for at least twenty feet up. “Um… how exactly should I go about that?” he asked, slightly dry. Oikawa laughed.

“Do you trust me, Iwa-chan?” he called down, just as Iwaizumi put a hand to the thick trunk of the tree. He nodded slightly, then remembered that Oikawa must be hundreds of feet up. 

“Yes,” he answered, “of course.”

“So just trust me, and climb.”

Resisting the urge to laugh, Iwaizumi just closed his eyes, trying to figure out what he could do. Jumping twenty feet into the air was  _ very _ impossible, even with his given abilities-- he had no rope, nothing to haul himself up. Iwaizumi shook his head and huffed out a quiet breath, lifting a foot and placing it along the smooth bark. 

To his surprise, it caught on something.

Eyes flying open he looked down, utterly shocked. A tiny branch, barely six inches wide, had seemingly grown out of the tree. He was certain it hadn’t been there before. “Tooru…?”

His nerves must have carried in his voice, since Oikawa hesitated in his reply. “Trust the tree, too, Iwa-chan. It won’t let you fall.”

‘ _ This is insanity _ ,’ Iwaizumi thinks, lifting his other foot and securing it on another small ledge. ‘ _ I’m going to slip and fall to my death trying to climb a gigantic tree _ .’

Iwaizumi tried to focus. He’s barely a foot off of the ground but it felt like miles already, both hands pressed flat to the bark of the tree. He can feel the same energy from before flowing through it, through every leaf and branch-- through himself, too. It’s comforting beyond words, beyond thought. Without doubting this massive pillar of stability and comfort, he began to climb.

It was, in actuality, fairly easy. He opened his eyes after a few more steps and guides the tension out of his shoulders, willing himself to just  _ climb _ . He reaches the first huge branch and hauls himself onto it, hearing Oikawa’s enthusiastic claps far above him. 

“Well done, Iwa-chan!” the king cheered, though Iwaizumi couldn’t bring himself to peer upwards and find him. “Keep going!”

Faster, faster, faster-- Iwaizumi ends up practically hopping from branch to branch, the ground far below him, his mind and body alight with energy and pride. The tops of the other trees melted away underneath him and just as his body began to tire, he’s there, Oikawa on his feet. Panting, he leans against the trunk, giving the other a huge grin. Oikawa just leaned in, cupped his cheeks, kissed away all the air he had managed to steal (not that it was much-- everything about this was  _ utterly  _ breathtaking.)

“Good god,” Iwaizumi said after Oikawa had pulled away, “how did I do that?”

Oikawa laughed. “You trusted me,” he said easily, taking Iwaizumi’s hand and guiding him further out onto the branch. It’s ridiculously thick for being so high up, probably at least eight feet wide. “You trusted what I’d told you. Isn’t that enough?”

Iwaizumi looked down, and miraculously, unbelievably, he isn’t afraid. The ground is so very far away but he’s up in the clouds, his hand in Oikawa’s, his heart beating fast. “Yes,” he said suddenly. “Normally not, but now…  _ god _ , yes. More than enough.”

It took a long time for the adrenaline rush to fade, but it did seemingly in time with the sun, his energy diminishing just as the sun dipped beneath the horizon. He sighed, leaning against Oikawa’s chest, fitting perfectly into him. “This was amazing,” he said, voice quiet and honest. “Thank you.”

The king lazily caressed his hair. “I’ve never taken anyone up here before,” he admitted softly. “When I was littler, I would climb as high as I could, just to sit and think. This tree was more my home than the castle was when I was growing up.”

Oikawa’s lips gently pressed to his cheek. “And now it’s home because you’re here, too.”

They’re silent for a while after that-- how was Iwaizumi to respond, anyway? They just sit and enjoy one another’s presence, relaxed and comforting, the only thing that mattered in that moment. “Do you miss her?” Oikawa asked suddenly, his forehead resting on Iwaizumi’s shoulder. “Your mother.”

“Of course.” Iwaizumi didn’t even have to think about that one. The loneliness would hit him on quiet nights, on early mornings where he would wake up alone in his room. “She was my mentor, my mother, my teacher. I lost the most important person in my life.”

Iwaizumi looked up to the sky. It’s far too early for stars to be out, but he can see one glinting away high above them anyway. “She’s not the type of person who would want me to grieve, though,” he said after a minute or two. “She always believed that grieving for the death of a loved one would prohibit them from… moving on. She thought that your energy just gets transferred back, recycled into the earth and reused, along with everyone else’s. So maybe…”

Iwaizumi swallowed. “Maybe she’s out there somewhere now,” he said softly. “The spirit of her, and a spruce tree, and a swallow. Maybe they’re living as an eagle now, soaring above us. Above everything.” He smiled a little. “So I’m not sad. I think she’s moved on.”

The leaves around them rustled quietly. “Plus, I…” Iwaizumi bit his lip. “If she hadn’t passed on, I wouldn’t have… come here. I wouldn’t have met you, Watari-san, Matsukawa or Hanamaki… I would have missed out on a whole life. I think I just have to enjoy what I have, cherish it while it’s here. Death waits for no one, after all. That was her last lesson.”

Oikawa’s arms tightened around him, just a little. “You think it’s worth it?” he asked. “This life?”

“I think it’s not a matter of worth,” answered Iwaizumi. “It’s what I have. But knowing where I am, thinking of where I’d be if she hadn’t…”

Iwaizumi paused. “Yeah,” he said. “It’s worth it.”

He can feel Oikawa’s smile against his shoulder. Their hands find one another’s and their fingers slowly twine together, reaffirming what they already knew.  _ This was real. They had each other. _

“Damn,” Oikawa muttered, shaking his head, “you’re awfully intelligent for a teenager.”

Smiling, Iwaizumi stood, pulling the king up after him. “I don’t think it’s a matter of brains so much as it is a matter of philosophy,” he answered, head tilted. Oikawa doesn’t respond, merely cupped his neck and kissed him gently. Iwaizumi’s fingers card through Oikawa’s soft hair and he sighs, content and almost disbelieving.  _ Was this real? _

Eventually, Oikawa drew away. His cheeks were flushed lightly and his lips were somewhat swollen. “Come on, Iwa-chan,” he whispered, fingers brushing Iwaizumi’s jaw, “we can’t miss dinner.”

Iwaizumi nodded and looked down, apprehension clenching in his chest. Going down certainly seemed more nerve-wracking than going up. Oikawa just smiled and gently pulled on his hand, putting it against the tree, letting the ancient energy within it to soothe his doubts. “Trust, Hajime. Always remember to trust.”

***

Iwaizumi’s palms were scratched up by the time they arrive at the castle again. Oikawa plucked a leaf from his hair with a soft laugh and as they sat down for dinner, and under the knowing glances of advisors and mentors, Iwaizumi had never felt more relaxed. This was his life now, after all-- these people were the ones he was going to see every day for as long as he lived. When Oikawa’s fingers found his under the table, Iwaizumi realized that he would take nothing over this.

The dinner was phenomenal, but Iwaizumi’s mind was occupied with other thoughts. It was almost cliche, the one-track mind of a boy promised sex, but it was with  _ Oikawa _ \-- his king, his lover, his best friend, and they had done enough waiting. Iwaizumi’s heart raced as he and Oikawa left the table, hands still clasped, palms somewhat clammy. The door to Oikawa’s bedroom shut and things changed in an instant-- touches become hot, heavy, the impatience from the months that had passed finally catching up to them. Iwaizumi’s skin burned under Oikawa’s attention, the bed bouncing as the two of them fall back against it, pillows tumbling to the floor in their haste to make room. It was too much, and at the same time, it was not enough; Iwaizumi keened, gasped, squirmed under Oikawa’s touch, his breaths ragged and needy. 

“Tooru,” he whispered, and Oikawa’s fingers crook inside of him-- his back arched and Iwaizumi moaned, loud and long, praise and pleads alike falling from his lips. Oikawa slowly pulled his fingers out and Iwaizumi feels too empty, too unfulfilled, but it lasts for half a second as Oikawa kissed him and  _ oh _ , this feels too good, his hips are moving on their own, erratic and wanting--

Falling into a rhythm is almost ridiculously easy, Iwaizumi’s fingers scrabbling for purchase along the king’s broad shoulders-- he sucked in a sharp breath as Oikawa got faster and angled himself just right, he can’t think, he can’t  _ breathe _ \--

Iwaizumi’s vision washed white. Pleasure that threatened to consume him from the inside out rose in his stomach as he clutched onto Oikawa, voice breaking around soft groans, giving a final shudder as he collapsed back against the bed, utterly spent.

Oikawa’s breath was curling over his neck, uneven and hot, his arms shaking where they were braced on either side of Iwaizumi’s head. The younger man’s fingers slid down to Oikawa’s jaw and he lazily makes their eyes meet, content settling thick in his chest. Iwaizumi smiled, huge and earnest, and Oikawa laughed.

“Jeez, Hajime,” he panted, slowly pulling out and making Iwaizumi grimace, “who knew a big tough guy like you could make such cute sounds?”

Iwaizumi flushed dark red. “Shut up.”

Snickering, Oikawa wiggled down next to him, his arm thrown over Iwaizumi’s chest. Iwaizumi looks over and can’t help the love that constricted his heart-- in that moment his king, Oikawa Tooru, is looking at him like he’s the only thing that matters, across sweeping plains and dazzling cities. Iwaizumi shuffled closer, grumbling about the soreness in his hips, resting his forehead against Oikawa’s chest. “Don’t you want to clean yourself up?” the taller brunet asked, fingers slowly sliding through his hair. Iwaizumi just grunted.

“Not sure I can move.”

Oikawa chuckled quietly, reaching over to grab a cloth from the bedside table. “At least let me, then,” he said, rag slipping between Iwaizumi’s heavy legs. Iwaizumi can feel his consciousness slipping away and he has just enough energy to strain upwards, kissing Oikawa firmly.

“Thanks,” he said, voice a little hoarse. “This was a phenomenal celebration.”

“Oh, you think so? I’m glad.” Oikawa’s voice was slightly teasing but Iwaizumi really didn’t care, just pulled him back down and relaxed under the touch of someone he loved.

The last thing he recalled before passing out was Oikawa’s lips pressed to his forehead, and a soft voice murmuring his name.

***

Iwaizumi woke slowly.

He had been dreaming, he knew-- something soft and indescribable, always lingering on the edge of his mind. He was warm, too, a pleasant comfort that swathed him and buried his inhibitions.

Oikawa was still asleep next to him, soft brown hair a mess, mouth slightly open. Iwaizumi blinked the sleep away from his eyes and smiled to himself, shifting closer, his hand sliding up to rest against Oikawa’s cheek. Part of him-- most of him, actually-- still couldn’t fathom all that was happening. His king, his lover, someone he had come to admire and trust, was lying an inch away from him. His heart fluttered happily.  _ This was real _ , he thought,  _ and this was better than any dream _ .

Oikawa stirred in his sleep and Iwaizumi carefully drew his hand away, not wanting to wake him prematurely. The older man’s expression spoiled a little and he immediately shuffled closer, nose pressing to Iwaizumi’s chest, a huge breath falling from his lips. Iwaizumi idly stroked his hair and closed his eyes and in that moment,  _ nothing _ \-- save some divine intervention-- could tear them away from each other.

Though, of course, the universe had other plans for them. There was a frantic knocking at the door.

Annoyed, Iwaizumi cracked his eyes open, squinting towards the door. It had to be fairly early still, and he vaguely remembered Oikawa warning his court members not to disturb them unless it was an emergency. The knocking got louder.

“Oikawa,” Iwaizumi said-- croaked, really--, nudging his lover, “someone’s at the door.”

Oikawa grunted. “Tell ‘em to go away.”

“Hajime, Tooru--” First names. Hanamaki?-- “I know you’re probably asleep, but-- oh god,  _ please _ , just open the door. Something’s happened.”

Iwaizumi sat up, frowning, his heart beginning to pound in his chest. “What happened?”

“Someone got-- I can’t-- just come to the door,  _ please _ !”

His voice is strained, horrified, and it gets Oikawa out of bed in an instant. He grabbed a robe for himself and tossed one to Iwaizumi as well, pushing hair out of his sleepy eyes as he yanked open the door.

Hanamaki was standing there, his eyes huge, his expression twisted into one of disbelief and shock. Slowly, he pointed down the stairs to his right, and the eyes of the other two followed his movement.

Matsukawa knelt at the foot of the stairs. His head was bowed and his shoulders were slumped, defeated and melancholy. For a moment, Iwaizumi felt sick. ‘ _ They’re always making jokes, _ ’ he thinks. ‘ _ Why would they joke about this? _ ’

But they wouldn’t. Not about this. 

They wouldn’t joke about Watari slumped in Matsukawa’s arms, lifeless, limp.

Dead.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is, basically, my need for dramatic angst and my inability to write porn. lmao.
> 
> also, our first death! sorry, watari :,)


	3. Chapter 3

No one descended the stairs. They were frozen, unresponsive, the shock and horror written on their faces urging them to stay still. Iwaizumi’s eyes were locked on Watari’s face, smeared with dirt and caked in dried blood, his expression unsettlingly serene.

Matsukawa cleared his throat and broke the heavy silence. “He-- I found him in the stables,” he said, voice hollow. “There was nothing I could do, I-- it was too late, there was nothing--”

“Issei,” Hanamaki said in a choked voice, and suddenly he’s flying down the stairs, tripping over his feet in a worried haste, “this isn’t-- this isn’t your  _ fault _ .”

“He’s right. It isn’t.” Oikawa’s voice was oddly quiet. “It’s Tetsurou’s.”

His gaze lifted to Iwaizumi’s, slow and deliberate. “He’s here.”

***

That wasn’t a fact Kuroo was trying to conceal. He strolls through the palace grounds casually, approached only by the occasional servant, his relaxed posture making it seem as if he belonged there.

He did not.

The closer he got to the castle, the more people that tried to interact with him. Kuroo stood now before the castle doors, feet planted and eyes turned upward, scanning the towers that stretched toward the sky. “This should be interesting,” he murmured and pushed open the doors.

Instantly, there are swords pointed his direction, shields readied and bows drawn, all in an act to protect the king. Oikawa himself stood in the center of the room, on an elevated platform, flanked by Iwaizumi and two others he vaguely recognized. “Oh, good,” Kuroo called. “Here I was thinking I would have to scour the castle for you.”

“You killed Watari.” Oikawa’s voice was reserved, hurt, but it still resonated through the room effortlessly. “You killed a member of  _ my court _ , Tetsurou. Are you trying to start a war?”

Kuroo gave him a pitying look. “Certainly not. Slaughtering your kingdom on the battlefield would be such a dreary way to end this.”

Oikawa’s lip curled-- Kuroo could feel his hostility radiating out, furious and unyielding. “What do you want?” he sniped, eyes narrowed. “Have you come to kill me next?”

“Of course not.” Kuroo sighed. “Must we play these guessing games all day? I have not come to kill you.”

He stepped forward and the ground shook. A couple of the more sturdier soldiers rightened but Kuroo just lifts his hands, sucking the air from their lungs, the life from their bodies. “I have come to  _ break  _ you,” he hissed, still stalking forward as his hands clenched to fists and the soldiers dropped like flies. The two advisors tensed but Oikawa’s gaze remained unwavering as he approached. “I have come to take away what brings you joy, strip you of your superiority, cast you aside like the common  _ filth  _ you are.”

He was close, now-- he could see the shock on Iwaizumi’s face. Kuroo smiled. “You’re not fit to be a king,” he said, taking a step forward. “Your magic is weak, useless, and your heart is frail.”

To Kuroo’s surprise, Oikawa began to laugh. It started with quiet chuckles that escalated to full-on bellows, condescending and care-free. “ _ My _ heart is frail?” he jeered, and Kuroo hesitated. His control of the room loosened a little. “No, no. You have that wrong, Tetsurou. I’m not the one who has had my heart broken… Three times? No, no, that’s generous.” He placed a hand on Iwaizumi’s shoulder and grinned. “Maybe four or five?”

“That’s a damn lie,” Kuroo snarled, mouth twisted into a frown. “You don’t know a thing about what I--”

“It started with that handsome blacksmith from the visiting kingdom,” Oikawa interrupted, stepping forward. The soldiers still on their feet parted for him. “What was his name? Daichi?”

“Shut up,” said Kuroo quietly, rage beginning to boil under his skin, prickling at his blood.

“And after he found out that your magic was connected to the same magic that killed his parents,” Oikawa continued, louder, “he left you. You did not wallow for long, oh no-- there was that pretty tutor for Karasuno’s air, Tsuni… Tsukishima! You longed for him for so long, yes, but that slippery little bastard never loved you.”

Oikawa smiled. “Then Bo-chan,” he said, and Kuroo tensed. “Oh, I rather liked him! But you know how those owl shifters are, they’re loyal to their own above all else. He sure was charming, wasn’t he? I think he might have loved you, Tetsu-chan, I really do. You could have been happy if it weren’t for… Ah, you know.”

“Do not say another  _ word _ , Oikawa Tooru, or I will--”

“His death,” interrupted Oikawa, smiling cruelly. Even his allies looked wary, Kuroo noticed, watching how Iwaizumi’s hands clench and unclench periodically. “And here comes Hajime,  _ dearest  _ Hajime, who holds all of their bests like a reincarnation, just to drive you  _ insane _ .”

“Tooru,” warned the light-haired advisor, who had felt the shift in atmosphere, “don’t--”

“Let’s compare, shall we?” Oikawa’s jeering voice had cut him off. He stepped close to Kuroo and smiled, a sneering look that made the other king’s stomach twist. “As Dai-chan was, can’t you see it-- Hajime is so rugged, hmm? Dark hair, dark skin, obviously able to lead those who need it. Sort of inspiring, really. Those two would have gotten along.”

“You don’t know--”

“And  _ Tsukishima _ , oh, how his name made my blood boil,” seethed Oikawa. “Always disrespectful, fighting to see through the lies that you had thrown up. That’s why you were so charmed when my Hajime talked back to you, wasn’t it? It reminded you of that snarky angel you had loved so much.”

“Tooru,” and this time it was Iwaizumi, his eyebrows knitted together with worry, “back down,  _ please _ .”

Oikawa chuckled. “This one won’t take long,” he assured, eyes gleaming, “since Bo-chan was so clearly cut from the same cloth. A strong soldier, fiercely protective of those he loved… admittedly a little less stable than yourself, my dear Hajime. Do you want me to tell you of how he died?”

Iwaizumi said nothing and Kuroo watched as Oikawa closed the gap between them, eyes full of so much loathing, hair brushing Kuroo’s forehead as his lip curled into an ugly sneer. Oikawa was hardly speaking to Iwaizumi now, just focused on causing Kuroo as much pain, as much grief as possible. “His clan accused Nekomans of chopping down their sacred trees for lumber,” he said, voice soft and breath playing over Kuroo’s face, “and so they attacked-- you had been so sure that Bo-chan would side with you, after everything that had happened, but no… He could not betray his own, not ever.” Oikawa tilted his head. “He was shot dead by your army and his blood painted the grass beneath him.”

Kuroo  _ snapped _ . His fingers jerked up just as Oikawa’s arms raised protectively, skidding backward a little as Kuroo’s magic flowed around him. “God, you never rest, do you?” Kuroo hissed, hands going stiff as he struck again and again, pushing Oikawa back, the residual magic flying off in random directions and occasionally striking someone. “You love to pour salt in my wounds, you coward, you selfish son of a  _ bitch _ ?”

His next movement was particularly powerful-- both arms raised and swung down, hard, making Oikawa stumble but miss taking the brunt of the blow. That honor went to the dark-haired advisor, who hadn’t gotten away in time, who had shoved the other off of the podium but had been too slow to follow himself. He goes rigid before falling, crashing into the other, and Kuroo chuckled dryly when Iwaizumi darted across the podium with a cry stuck in his throat. Kuroo’s hand lifts and Iwaizumi froze in place, his eyes filled with shocked horror.

Oikawa tried to rise-- Kuroo didn’t use magic when he strode over and kicked him, hard, the other king too weakened to protect himself in time. Kuroo took the stairs slowly and draws his fingers into a fist, watching Iwaizumi go very stiff, still hearing the anguish from below as a life slowly slips away.

“He was right, you know,” said Kuroo softly, his fingers relaxing to allow Iwaizumi to breathe as he steps in close. “You really are like them all.”

Iwaizumi fought-- he manages to get a few words out. “Five times?” he asked hoarsely, eyes flicking to Oikawa. Kuroo shook his head. 

“No, no, no.  _ Tooru  _ dear never broke my heart. He just made sure that I never forget how many times I have lost.” Kuroo watched confusion flicker over Iwaizumi’s face. “Your king is not the saint you believe him to be, Hajime. He has painted me in a light of blood and revenge when he himself is guilty of the same thing.”

There was movement behind them and in a heartbeat, Kuroo was turning, his physical hand now around Iwaizumi’s throat, pressing in close as Oikawa stood on slightly shaky legs. “Don’t try anything,” he said quietly.

“Let him go,” said Oikawa, eyes burning. “You already took two lives, Tetsurou,  _ please  _ just let him go.” 

Kuroo glanced down to where Hanamaki-- he remembers his name now, indistinctly, the laughter and teasing smiles he had sent at the dinner table to the one now cradled in his arms. Kuroo knew that feeling exactly, remembered how it felt to cup his loved one’s cheek and beg and cry, plead with the unforgiving universe _ not again, oh god, please don’t do this to me again _ . He looked back at Oikawa. “You’re asking me to show mercy?”

Oikawa’s fists clenched. “Yes,” he gritted out, but Kuroo just chuckled.

“I have never been shown mercy,” he said, nails biting into Iwaizumi’s skin. He felt blood seep out, warm and thick, felt the young man’s rapid heartbeat. “Hajime was my last chance, I believe, and the universe took him away from me in the form of  _ you _ .”

Iwaizumi tried to say something but Kuroo tightens his grip, eyes locked on the floor. Hanamaki’s cries had ceased and now he just rocked back and forth, the blood of the man held against his chest creeping along the wood floors. Kuroo tilted his head.

“Let’s go outside, shall we?” he offered, fingers still clenched around Iwaizumi’s neck as he guided him forward, past Oikawa. “The back courtyard should be empty by now, yes? I fancy a stroll.”

Kuroo knew that Oikawa was aware of his intentions, knew that his last love had been taken from him on the grass, and thinking about it made his lip curl. Life had kicked him between the legs and spat on him-- it was high time that Oikawa felt some of that pain.

As he’d suspected, the courtyard is deserted. It was rather pretty, really, the castle curving around a fast river that ran west. Kuroo halted before it, loosening his grip to allow Iwaizumi breath. He sputtered and gasped for it, twisting in Kuroo’s grip, body shaking. Kuroo turned to Oikawa.

“Are you happy, Tooru?” he spat. The skies above them had darkened, looming clouds staring down at the three men and rumbling ominously. “You had laughed for so long, hadn’t you? This had been the death blow, you finding the  _ perfect  _ man to mock me with.”

“That wasn’t my intention,” Oikawa growled back, eyes flickering between Iwaizumi and Kuroo. “Your spite was unprompted, Tetsurou, as--”

“My  _ spite _ ?” Kuroo cackled, loud and mirthless and dryly amused. “Please. The moment I showed interest you bared your fangs, unable to give me a  _ chance _ .”

Oikawa planted his feet and glared. “I was  _ protecting  _ him, Tetsurou! Your life has been stained red from your jealous rages, what-- what on Earth happened to your innocence, your love?"

Kuroo’s grip grows vice-like and Iwaizumi squirms, fingers clawing at Kuroo’s hand. “It died when Koutarou did,” he said, rain beginning to splatter down on them. “It died when the person _ I _ loved died in my arms hating me,  _ loathing  _ me, believing that I had betrayed him.”

He twisted Iwaizumi around like a rag doll and surveyed him, face ghostly pale and tears running down his cheeks. There was a terror in his eyes, the kind that Kuroo had seen countless times before. His free hand raised, fingers sliding along Iwaizumi’s jaw before he gave a small smile.

“And I’m sorry that it was you,” said Kuroo softly. The rain was pelting down on them now, the wind roaring, deafening, and Kuroo heard Oikawa scream just before he rotates his hand and then jerks it  _ hard _ .   
  
  


_ Crack _ .   
  
  


And for just a moment after that, the world went silent. Iwaizumi’s limp body slid from Kuroo’s grip and crumpled to the ground.   
  
  


Kuroo didn’t resist the guards that had rushed in and captured him, no longer held at bay by his vengeful, heartbroken power. Oikawa crashed to his knees and cupped Iwaizumi’s cheeks in shaking hands, mouth agape and eyes horrified.

_ No. _

_ God, please, no. _

“Hajime,” he whispered, voice trembling and breaking with emotion, “oh god, Hajime, please wake up, wake up, wake up…”

He had been helpless. Helpless to stop Matsukawa from dying, helpless to console a sobbing Hanamaki, helpless to save the only lives that he had valued above his own.

Oikawa straightened Iwaizumi’s head and aligned it with his fractured spine, blood seeping into the grass below in bitter irony, staining his fingers and robes. He pulled Iwaizumi to his chest, fingers scrabbling along his hair and shoulders and waist, hoarse cries making his chest spasm.

“Come back to me,” he pleaded, hardly able to breathe, to  _ think _ , to do anything except cling to Iwaizumi and let the rain freeze him to the bone. “Please, please, please, I can’t…”

Iwaizumi did not stir but Oikawa did not let him go, cradling him close, rocking slowly back and forth and kissing his hair, whispering _ I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. _

_ I couldn’t save you, Hajime. _

_ This is my fault. _

  
  
  


_ A time later. _   
  


Oikawa sat alone at the water’s edge, fingers sliding along the surface of the river, calmly ebbing and flowing around him. His bare feet swung slowly through it, robes rolled up to his knees, and Oikawa bent over to peer at himself in the shimmering reflectivity of the water. 

The king shifted and takes a deep breath, let his entire body sink into the river and continue around him, parting its path to let him submerge and forget. 

Fortified by his magic, Oikawa remained still despite the motion of the water around him, and his eyes slowly opened as he scanned the peaceful depths all around him. If the river were deeper Oikawa would continue to sink, let himself get washed away by the tide, released into the ocean. 

But it isn’t, so he doesn’t. When Oikawa pulled himself out of the river his robes dried and his hair stiffened, the water clinging to his skin and slowly vanishing. 

As if it hadn’t happened, as if Oikawa was unaffected. 

Because the river would flow on without him. 

Oikawa glanced up as a familiar figure makes his way over— hands tucked neatly into the pockets of his shawl and head bowed. Oikawa watched as Hanamaki crouched down on the other bank, reaching out to let his fingers glide along the surface of the water. The advisor met his gaze. “How is Issei?”

Oikawa hummed just a little and glances over, put a hand on the trunk of the sapling next to him, small but already sturdy. “Well. He’ll be a trooper.”

Hanamaki nodded and pulled his legs up to his chest, looking to his left. Oikawa’s eyes slowly followed— the tiny pure water spring was lined with flowers and stones, its small stream trickling into the endless flow of the river. 

Oikawa couldn’t always look at it. The symbolism was too strong, and if he were to glance at his hands after touching the water, the clear shimmer would turn to a bloodied red. 

“You know, Issei wasn’t placed very wisely,” Hanamaki said after a moment of hollow silence. “When he grows big and strong he’ll cast a shadow onto the river. A lone tree.”

Oikawa didn’t say anything to that. He did what he could, he paid homage. He couldn’t do anything more.

“Do you believe in reincarnation, Tooru?” asked Hanamaki, and when Oikawa looked up he saw that the other’s eyes were gleaming with unshed tears. 

“‘cause I do,” he continued, voice hoarse. “And I think we might meet again. At another time.”

Oikawa closed his eyes and pictured towering trees, calloused palms, and bright smiles. 

“In another life.”   
  
  
  
  


__ Epilogue  
  


“Wait, wait, no. You’re trying to tell me that an entire portion of history was just _ wiped out _ by some dipshit conservatives?”

Oikawa Tooru snickered into his hand. “Guess so, Iwa-chan. They were so pissed off about the whole magical incest thing that they just nixed it.”

“That’s dumb,” Matsukawa hummed. “I want to learn about kings and demons and magic. Even if it was, apparently, sinful and toxic.”

“All the best things are,” Hanamaki said with a grin, his eyes twinkling. Matsukawa winked and Iwaizumi let out a noise of disgust. 

“Good god. Maybe it’s a good thing that they were forgotten, right? Their lives probably really sucked, what with all the murder and stuff. Let them enjoy the afterlife.” Iwaizumi frowned. “Or, you know, their other lives.”

Matsukawa snorted. “What, like reincarnation? That doesn’t exist.”

“You don’t know that,” Oikawa argued. “I bet I would have been a king— regal, badass, all the ladies love me.”

“False,” Hanamaki answered in a flat voice. “You would be the type of king to take in a closeted little twink. So Iwaizumi.”

Iwaizumi’s eyes gleamed. “Do you want to die?”

“No!” Hanamaki protested. “Kill that stupid Nekoma captain. He’s way too good at blocking and it pisses me off.”

“Tetsu-chan _ is _ rather annoying at times,” Oikawa mused. “He could do well with a near-death experience.”

“That seems rather extreme,” said Iwaizumi in a deadpan voice. Oikawa just grinned at him, squinting against the sunlight filtering through leaves of the tall tree they were all huddled under.

“Oi!” called a familiar voice, and the four students look up to see their underclassman and libero, Watari, waving a hand. “Come on, our next match is about to start!”

Matsukawa yawned. “Jeez, Oikawa, way to be a good role model for the little ones,” he said, flicking his textbook closed. Oikawa rolled his eyes and grabbed his folder, glancing up in shock as Iwaizumi holds out a hand. He blinked, then took it and allowed the older boy to haul him up.

“Ooooh,” crooned Hanamaki, “how sweet you two are.”

“Shut it,” Iwaizumi said rather lazily. Oikawa just smiled to himself, hanging back for just a moment to watch the figures slip inside the gymnasium. Iwaizumi turned to him and raised his eyebrows.

“What are you waiting for?” he asked. Oikawa lifted his chin and grinned confidently.

“Nothing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally,, it is done
> 
> happy birthday, french! i love you very much and i hope you enjoy this little thing i put together for you... starting a year ago. that's kinda wild. i'll extrapolate when i feel better.
> 
> clarification for those who need it-- apollo grew flowers from hyacinthus' blood, tooru made a stream and a tree based on hajime and issei's name nomenclature. also, i eased up on the angst in favor of a hopeful ending. please tell me what you think!


End file.
